


Wedding.Singer

by Fox_Pause



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: BAMF Allison, BAMF Lydia Martin, Band, Band Fic, Canon, Collaboration, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Relationships, Fluff, Hurt Stiles, I Blame Tumblr, Lydia Martin & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, M/M, Misunderstandings, POV Stiles, Porn With Plot, Protective Allison, Protective Lydia Martin, Protective Scott, Scott is a Good Friend, Scott is a potato, Sex, Singer Stiles, Singing, Songfic, Stiles Feels, Wedding, colab, spoilers in the tags, wedding singers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-18
Updated: 2016-03-18
Packaged: 2018-05-26 10:33:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6235171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fox_Pause/pseuds/Fox_Pause
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles and Derek are completely and utterly plastered, wavering back and forth at a bar. They've just finished their last round of drinks when Stiles gets the bright Idea to head back to his apartment, Derek in tow. </p>
<p>What could possibly go wrong?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wedding.Singer

Stiles, having only just detached himself from Derek’s mouth, half-staggers, half-falls into his apartment, tripping over week-old dirty laundry.

“Dereek, get the liiights”

Derek nods dumbly, stumbling over to the light switch, hand slapping the doorframe a few times before finally –jackpot-  hitting the switch. The lights flicker on, causing both men to cheer half-heartedly. Derek does a drunken twirl with a neat little bow at the end, while Stiles watches on, amused. He laughs loudly before walking unsteadily over to Derek, who catches him easily in his arms, only swaying a little.

Its quite impressive, really, considering how much they’ve had to drink.

Stiles buries his nose in the crook of Derek’s neck. “you smell good. Like- like, okay, dark chocolate.” Derek huffs laughter, arms tightening around the boy. Stiles laughs loudly as his mind procures an image of Derek naked, covered in dark chocolate. “mph.” He looks up at Derek, who’s red-flushed cheeks are the most adorable thing he’s ever seen. Ever. And he knows it’s not from the alcohol, because although he’s had a lot of alcohol too, he’s feeling the same feeling. You know. The one millions of songs are written about every year. 

 

Stiles sighs, breath reeking of vodka, eyes flickering over to the closed door of his bedroom. It would be so easy, he thinks. Derek watches Stiles’ eyes glaze over, following his line of sight, eyebrow arching when he takes in what Stiles’ bedroom door would mean for their admittedly fucked, enemies-friends-whatever the hell they are now relationship. Stiles’ questioning gaze flickers back to his, something hidden behind hooded eyes that ignites something deep, deep within Derek. He swallows hard, nodding.

Stiles smiles gently, “I’ve wanted this for so long n-now Derek, you have no idea.” Shyly, he leans forward, placing his lips on Derek’s tentatively. The wolf moves forward slightly, deepening the kiss, savoring the taste of Stiles, sure and warm and strong.

Eventually, Stiles steps back. Wrapping bony fingers around a thick wrist, he pulls Derek into his room, closing the door behind them with a heavy ‘thud’.

The second it closes large hands gently glide over pale skin, as if holding something so fragile the wrong touch could cause it to shatter into a thousand pieces, while Stiles holds onto Derek so tightly you’d think if he let go the world would fall away. Hands sneak under clothing slowly, savoring every moment with a gasp that’s quickly swallowed by another crash of lips, more passionate and crazy than the last.

Somehow, Derek already knows Stiles’ weaknesses, the spots that make Stiles see stars and is eager to exploit them, bending Stiles to his will. He lifts Stiles into the air as if he weighed nothing, settling him on the edge of he bed, moving to remove his clothing. but the boy just bounces back off, latching himself back onto Derek before he could move his hands down to his fly.

Stiles’ hands come up to cradle Derek’s face gingerly before working their way back down, sliding his and Derek’s pants off, while Derek removes his shirt, the pile of clothing at their feet growing quickly.

They’re both breathless by the time they’re standing naked before each other.

The room is silent, air warm and hot as they stop in their tracks, mesmerized by the others body. Their eyes meet in the middle, both breathing a harsh ‘beautiful’ before colliding together again, neither letting the other out of arms reach.

They move around the room in a heap of heavy limbs, hips arching up, cocks brushing together. “where’s the..” Stiles steps backwards, hand reaching out behind him as Derek blindly follows. “Here”. Derek takes the lube from Stiles’ hand, warming it between his fingers. “are you sure you want to-” Stiles nods, head butting Derek’s chest. “yeah. I’m sure” Derek searches willing molten orbs, smiling. “okay.”

He lowers Stiles onto his back, making sure he stays there this time with a steady hand pinning him in place, tugging gently on hardened nipples. Stiles moans and arches into his touch, and the wolf can’t help but preen. Once the lube is warm enough, he slides a single finger into Stiles’ tight hole, working him open slowly. Then he adds another, and soon enough he’s got three fingers knuckle-deep inside Stiles. “Holy shit Derek. Holy fu-I need you.” The teen loops his arms around Derek’s neck, forcing Derek to look at him. “I need you, Der.”

If Derek wasn’t so oblivious to not only his own emotions but also others, he would’ve seen the desperation in Stiles’ eyes. The unconditional love that’s been harboured there for years, through thick and thin. But he is, so he doesn’t.

He moans helplessly at Stiles’ confession, his wolf begging to  _just do it_  already and lifts Stiles off the bed, pressing him tightly to his body. Stiles wraps his legs around Derek’s hips, crossed at the heels, as Derek slowly –almost excruciatingly so- slides into Stiles.

Goosebumps wrap themselves around Derek’s skin as his cock sinks into Stiles inch by inch, whose eyes light up at the intrusion, hands tugging at Derek’s hair painfully “Holy sh-you’re so big-just” Stiles closes his eyes as Derek stills inside him, scared shitless he’s done something to hurt the young teen.

“Give me a second here.” He thunks his head against Derek’s, panting hard, eyes opening and latching onto Derek’s. The two share searching gazes, Stiles' long fingers scratching lightly at the back of Derek's head.

(artwork by [pandatails](http://pandatails.tumblr.com))

He smiles at Derek, never breaking eye contact. “Ok. Ok. I’m good. Let’s go.” And before Derek can make sure Stiles isn’t just saying that, Stiles is moving up and down in his arms, impatient as always, skin sliding against skin. They moan in unison at the sheer feeling, and soon Derek’s arching his hips up roughly to meet Stiles’.

Their bodies synchronize perfectly, pace increasing as they both come closer to loosing themselves in the other.

Rough hands become a bruising pressure on Stiles’ hips as he draws closer to his orgasm. “Stiles,” He pants. “I’m about to-” but Stiles interrupts, his own grip on Derek’s shoulders bordering on painful “I know. Me too.” Derek’s thrust’s become harder and the wolf comes with a moan that’s close to a howl, still buried deep within Stiles. Stiles moans, only seconds away, “Oh my go-” and soon he’s coming too, hot white come spurting out all over Derek’s abs and chest.

“holy shit” Stiles says between breaths. Derek nods, legs wobbling slightly below them. The teen closes his eyes, humming contently, pressing his forehead to Derek’s.

Trying not to jostle Stiles, the wolf walks them over to the bed, putting Stiles down on top of the covers before fetching a washcloth from the bathroom. After wiping them both down, Stiles makes grabby hands at the wolf, who slips into the touch easily.

Stiles stays quiet as Derek manhandles him into position, the wolf curling protectively around the only slightly smaller body, nestling his nose into the side of Stiles’ neck, humming (although Stiles is sure Derek isn’t aware he’s making any noise at all).

Stiles tries to relax into the silence, he really does, but as usual its only a matter of time before he opens his mouth.

“Hey, Der?”

the wolf grunts.

“does this mean you like me?” Derek scoffs, but nods slightly into Stiles’ neck. “I have for a while.” He replies, shifting his grip on Stiles slightly, tracing small circles into his skin. “I just thought -until tonight- the feeling wasn’t mutual.”

Now it’s Stiles’ turn to scoff. “are you kidding me, Der? How could anyone not like you? I mean, sure, you look a little grumpy at least 120% of the time and your eyebrows are your first language, but underneath all that you’re just a huggable little marshmallow puppy. I, for one, love marshmallow puppies. That’s why I keep Scott around. And Issac.”

Derek stays silent, but Stiles can feel him smiling shyly.

Its barely a whisper when Derek replies “you’re not too bad yourself.” Stiles smiles into the darkness and if the lights were on, you’d be able to see his skin flush red. He reaches down to where Derek’s hands are clamped around his waist and intertwines their fingers, bringing the back of Derek’s hand up to place a small kiss there. “thanks, sourwolf.” He mumbles, and falls asleep in the arms of his lover, content.

-

‘who the fuck is playing the drums this early?’ Is Stiles’ first thought the following morning.

He groans, muttering about wannabe rock stars and, wiping at the thick trail of drool crusted on his cheek, tries to ease himself up. Which is so not happening. As soon as he gains any altitude at all, the world comes crashing down around him, and the drums – no, wait, that’s just his heart beat- grow to a sickening crescendo and all of a sudden, he feels like someone’s using his head to play twister.

Groaning, he throws a heavy arm over his eyes, blocking the too-bright sunlight filtering through the window.

Looks like he’ll be spending his morning horizontally.

He lays there for a while, slowly letting his mind come back online. It’s fair to say, it’s taking its own god-dammed time.

Since he literally has nothing better to do while he waits for the sunlight to become tolerable, he tries to remember what exactly happened last night. It’s a little fuzzy at first, to say the least, but after a few minutes and a few misplaced memories, he has to close his eyes against the sudden onslaught of images.

He started the night at a bar in the middle of town, pack surrounding him, celebrating another one of Lydia’s achievements (damn girl isn’t only just academically gifted, but musically too), Allison feeding him shot after shot after shot. Then he remembers dancing with Scott, more drinks, and then… oh. Right.

Derek showed up.

The brooding hulk just had to shoulder his way into the club, clearing a path towards the pack effortlessly. Stiles’ arousal spiked, as it always does. But this time, instead of ignoring a horny teenager, the wolf simply arched a thick eyebrow, gesturing to the bartender for two drinks before adding a sparkling brown powder to his, handing the other off to Stiles.

From there, all he can recall is brief flashes of the night. It goes something a little like this…

A dance (or three) with the pack. Another shot. ‘Breaking the seal’ and instantly regretting it. Knocking back several more. Being crowded into a dark corner by a strange man. Derek storming in, saving the say, dragging Stiles back into the safety of the pack. Watching Lydia break multiple hearts on the dance floor. More drinks. More Derek. The pack slurring goodbyes. Stiles staying just a little bit longer, Derek tagging along. Eventually being dragged out front after closing, Derek being 100% too drunk to drive back so they call a cab and head back to Stiles’ ‘cause he’s closer. Getting back to his place. Falling through the bedroom door in a tangled heap of wayward limps.

Having the most mind-blowing sex with Derek. (Seriously though, its like they were made for each other or something.) Feeling like it was right the whole time.

Fuck.

Stiles turns onto his side, ignoring his stomach’s disapproving lurch. “Derek?”

Silence

He blinks his eyes heavily only to see cold, wrinkled sheets where Derek should be. Brow furrowing in concentration he lifts himself up onto his elbows, straining to see out his opened bedroom door. Strange, he thinks. He never leaves the door open.

Wincing, he rolls himself out of bed, walking into the kitchen.

At first he thinks Derek might be chilling in the kitchen, perched on a barstool, hot cup of coffee clamped firmly between large hands with another brewing for Stiles. But when he gets there, empty seats and a heap of old washing are all that greet him. Well, besides the growing ball of fear that something terrible has happened.

“where the fuck are you... DEREK!” He hollers into the empty space of the apartment. He checks all the rooms, all the nooks and crannies Derek could possibly be hiding in as some sort of sick joke, but comes up empty handed. The fuck?

It’s 20 minutes later and the sickening feeling that something’s gone terribly wrong hasn’t subsided, so Stiles does the most sensible thing he can think of. He calls Scott. 

He picks up on the second ring. “Hey Scotty-” but is interrupted.

**“** - **Stiles? DUDE! Where did you go last night? One minute you were there and the next, you and Derek were gone!”**

 “no- well, actually, we stayed at the club. I though Derek told you last night?”

**“Nope.”**

“huh…” Which is funny, because he was sure Derek told Scott. Whatever.

But Scott interrupts him mid-thought.  **“Listen buddy, thanks for letting me know you’re alive and stuff, but I have to go to work soon-”**

“OH right! I was calling to ask if you’ve seen Derek? He stayed over last night but now- he’s gone.”

Scott, the ever-present ball of sunshine he is, just responds with  **“Don’t stress man, I’m sure he’s around town somewhere. He probably had something important that came up.”**

Stiles laughs “werewolfey business, right?”

Scott scoffs into the phone **“that sounds about right.”** He sighs into the phone, most likely remembering when their lives weren’t only about supernatural-related events **“Look, I’m sorry man but I’ve gotta go or I’m gonna be late – but congrats on finally banging Derek!”**

Stiles laughs –his default reaction- before realizing what Scott just said. He’s halfway through formulating the perfect comeback when the dick hangs up.

“asshole.”

He types out the reply instead.

-

Stiles spends the whole day worrying about Derek, despite Scotts best efforts to comfort him.

He knows this sounds absolutely ridiculous, but he can feel something’s wrong.

So he calls. He texts. He goes to the loft. To the old burnt-out shell Derek calls home. Comes up with nothing. He dives around town hoping to catch a glimpse of black hair atop tanned skin, but every time he sees something out of the corner of his eye, its gone before he can turn around.

Every time he thinks he see’s the Camaro, it turns out to be Miss Nelson’s shitty black mustang. The third time he sees the car parked askew around town, he just about wants to smash the doors in, just so they’re easier to distinguish instead of having his hopes lifted and then abruptly destroyed every time.

This feeling, the sickening tightening of his stomach, paired with the insistent thought that Derek’s gone, only gets worse as the day wears on. Stiles can’t loose someone else he cares about. That, combined with the fact that he thought he and Derek had something special together and now Derek’s just gone –vanished-  into thin air has ripped a hole in his heart and replaced it with this harrowing feeling of dread.

It’s only when Scott gets back from work the two take to the town looking for Derek that this feeling is settled in the worst way possible, a permanent resident in his clusterfuck of emotions.

Shame. Regret. Grief.

The boys stumble into Derek’s loft, Scott scenting the air. Stiles turns to Scott, eyes betraying the hope burning him up inside, but Scott just shakes his head, a pitying look settling itself into his features. 

“I’m sorry dude. He’s gone.”

-

Despite how adamant Scott is that Derek has vanished –never to be seen again, Stiles doesn’t give up. That would be way too uncharacteristically Stiles.

Instead, he goes out on numerous adventures with the pack searching for Derek, and some without. He searches for months, sometimes spending days away on some dead-end trail only to come back empty-handed and heart-wretchedly exhausted.

It’s funny, how he can feel himself getting a little number every time he returns. How this constant state of worry, guilt, regret –you name it, is finally wearing him down. Tearing him apart from the seams.

Every now and then, he finds himself looking at people differently. With something remarkably close to distrust haunting his once innocent features. Before he knew it he was raising his walls a little higher, making them that little bit thicker. Of course the others noticed the spark in his eyes slowly sapping away, the wince every time Derek’s name come up. They just don’t know what to do.

But you know what? That’s ok.

Neither does Stiles.

He just knows that every time he leaves he comes that little bit closer to actually finding Derek. He has to be. Of course he fears someday he’ll find Derek’s body; torn to shreds, discarded and thrown aside like it meant nothing to nobody. But if he just keeps looking, surely, one day, He’ll find Derek.

-

It’s Scott who tells Stiles to stop looking a six months later.

He sits him down as you would a child, and tells him the truth. He tells him Derek’s an asshole, that he ran away from the pack. From Stiles. He tells him It’s ok not to be ok, but that he has to stop looking. For his own well-being.

And that’s when Stiles finally, finally breaks. Scott does what any brother would do: holds him tightly, whispering soft reassurances into his ear, carefully tracing circles into the skin on his back in a way that still stings too sweetly to be smothered.

-

Despite Scott’s best efforts, Stiles doesn’t get any better. Not really, anyway. He walks through life in a daze, walls climbing higher, so thick they’re beginning to choke him in his own sorrow. It’s not until Scott, Allison and Lydia literally slap him out of it that he realizes just how bad he’d gotten. How close he’d come.

Lydia, ever the peace-maker, is the one to finally break the awkward silence, audible slap still echoing loudly behind them. “Stiles. We know you’re grieving for lost love or whatever, but you need to wake up.” Lydia opens her mouth, ready to launch the second wave of her verbal attack, but Allison chimes in, voice soft but stern “we have an idea for a project that we think would be really good. For all of us.” She looks to the others for confirmation. They both nod once, an excited gleam in their eyes. “We want to start a band. What do you think?”

-

No.

Just. No.

“A band?!” He almost screams a few minutes later “Are they kidding??”. Scott watches Stiles pace around his small bedroom, the girls chatting worriedly downstairs. Scott shrugs “I think it’s a good idea.” Stiles looks like he’s about to burst. “Are you kidding? Not only do none of us know how to play any musical instruments, besides Lydia, but there isn’t a place in Beacon Hills we could play without getting booed out of town.”

Scott comes forward, blocking Stiles’ path. “Okay. First, you need to sit down. You’re gonna trip over something.” He forces Stiles to sit on the edge of the bed before continuing. “I know it’s crazy, but the girls came up with it months ago and I think it’s really good- Allison already knows how to play the keyboard and Lydia’s learning the bass. You know how she is, It’ll take her less than a month to have it down pat. And I’m on drums and I think this is a really good idea. So please, could you just-” Stiles looks up, meeting Scott’s hopeful gaze. “play with us? or at least think about it?” Stiles shakes his head, but can’t help the small smile tugging his lips up, imagining taking the stage with the others.

“I don’t- I have-” He sighs, for once stuck for something to say. Putting his head in his hands he sighs, resigned. “If I -hypothetically, of course, did want to play with you guys. What would you need me to do?”

Scott’s responding smile is blinding.

* * *

**NOTES**

**It's my first time writing any kind of smexy scene, so please, take it easy with the criticism.**

**This is the colab with[pandatails](http://pandatails.tumblr.com/) I was talking about! I'm thinking its gonna be around 3-4 chapters with some really fun art, but don't quote me. If you have any questions about this work, you can either ask in the comments here or message my [Tumblr](http://fox-pause.tumblr.com/).**  

 

**(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧**

**Peace out.**

**Author's Note:**

> Tracklist:
> 
> 1\. Through the eyes of a child - Aurora  
> 2\. In for the kill - Billie Martin  
> 3\. Somebody I used to know - Gotye  
> 4\. Forest Fires - Axel Flovent  
> 5\. Drean - Cloud boat


End file.
